Rainbows, Sunshine, and Werepups
by Sparkle Itamashii
Summary: 100 Themes Challenge- 100 shorts about Derek Hale's past. Happiness and werepups and fluff, ENGAGE!
1. Theme 1: Introduction

Author: Sparkle Itamashii

Title: Rainbows, Sunshine, and Werepups

Notes: This "story" will be a series of 100 scenes from a "100 Themes" challenge list. I'm choosing to do the challenge based around the overall theme of "Derek's past" so all of them will relate to Derek's past. And I'm going to stuff his past full of happiness and adorable werefluff moments because he goddam deserves some smiles.

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**Theme 1: Introduction**

She lay in the hospital bed, eyes closed, paying close attention to just breathing, to just being aware. In the hall there were nurses and doctors and patients, visitors and family. Especially her family, her mate and her firstborn. She couldn't gather enough threads of focus to understand what Jeremy was saying to her doctor, but she knew that they were talking, could pick his smooth, deep rumble out of the clamor. All around her his scent mingled with the rest, of the doctor, the nurses, the blood and the baby.

The baby...

They'd taken him.

She opened her eyes and her mate was in the room in an instant, catching her hand as she lifted it to begin to sit. His other hand pressed into her chest to keep her from rising. "No, Ellie," he told her firmly. "Lay back."

She let him push her down, even though her panic nearly strangled her. "Derek," she told him frantically, needing him to understand. They'd just _taken_ him.

"He's _fine_," he assured her. "They'll bring him back in a moment. You need to rest."

Looking up, looking into his pale eyes, she forced herself to trust him. Even as she did so, the door to the room opened and a nurse slipped through, a small bundle of blue blankets in her arms. She was full of hesitant smiles, trundling over to her bed and carefully, so very carefully, turning the bundle so that she could see the tiny, pink face nestled within it.

"Sorry for the wait," the nurse said. "We had to make sure he was ok. He was so quiet..."

"Is he ok?" she asked, holding out her hands for the child. Her child.

"He's fine," the nurse said, her hands over the top of Elyse's to steady her grip. "You're both fine. Perfectly healthy."

She tucked the bundle close to her body, pulled down the edge of the blanket with one finger. Stirring at the motion, the baby opened dark blue eyes, looked up at her silently. She smiled, and the baby's face crinkled, mouth opening with a small noise. Her gaze sought her mate's eyes, and he nodded, began to usher the nurse from the room, asking questions about when they could leave and was he allowed to bring his wife food and drink?

Almost as soon as they were gone, the door cracked open and the small form of a child wriggled in. She hesitated, not sure if she had permission to be entering this temporary den, but her mother waved her over, motioned to the heavy armchair that sat beside the bed. Laura pushed and pulled it until it sat beside the bed, until she could clamber atop it and see what was in her mother's arms.

"How come he's not a wolf?" she asked as soon as the baby's face was visible to her.

Her mother just smiled. "Until he's a little older, he'll take whatever form I take," she told her daughter.

Laura frowned. "He's not very cute," she told her mother frankly. "He's all... wrinkly."

Laughing, her mother scooped her onto the bed with one arm, snuggled her down along her side, the baby across her chest. "He'll change, as he grows. You looked like this too, you know. But you were an awfully cute puppy."

"I'm still a cute puppy," Laura stated. "Dad says so." She tilted her chin up, flexed so that she could look at the baby again. "What's his name anyway?"

"Derek," their mother said fondly, and there was no mistaking the softness in her voice for anything but boundless love. She tilted the baby so that the children could see one another. "Derek, this is your big sister, Laura."

Derek yawned, squinched his face as he closed his eyes tightly and then relaxed. Laura pursed her lips, dark eyes roaming over the tiny face of her newborn brother. Finally she snuggled her head into her mother's side, closed her eyes and said: "I guess he can stay."


	2. Theme 27: Foreign

Author: Sparkle Itamashii

Title: Rainbows, Sunshine, and Werepups

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**Theme 27: Foreign**

The tone of the doorbell awoke the pile of wolves curled in expansive family room. Along the edge, a silvery-grey head rose, turned her attention toward the front door of the manor. Before she rose, she snuffled two small balls of fur, one larger than the other, close to the massive black wolf at her side. He shifted so as to have one paw on either side of the pups and watched as she rose, stretched. The pack watched as she padded to the door, tugged on the handle; it had been left ajar less than an inch, an invitation the boy behind the door had been too polite to take.

Standing there, hands loosely behind his back, stood a boy of maybe twenty years. His dark, curly hair was cut close to his head, as was the scruff of beard on his chin. Dark eyes, dark skin, dark jacket, dark jeans; everything about him, perhaps, except the smile which lit his face at the sight of her standing before him.

His smile at the wolf was a soft, slightly lopsided motion accompanied by a bow of just his head and shoulder. "Mrs. Hale," he greeted, voice low and smooth.

Withdrawing from the entrance, she returned the gesture and trotted away from him, leading him to the rest. The pack was rising, yawning great toothy yawns, stretching languidly, nipping at one another with the rumblings of anticipation. The full moon was tonight, and they could feel the setting of the sun in their bones, crackling across their fur.

The hunt was near.

At the edge of the room he paused, waited politely for the Pack to finish waking. There were six adults that he could see, along with two adolescents and five pups, all beautiful, all completely deadly. Though most of them were the same deep black as the Alpha, two of the pups were burnished red to match their mother (visitors, he noted to himself) and one of the adolescents was a strange yellowish-white. Albino, he noted as it turned pale bluish-red eyes to him. There were faint grey outlines of dots on his nose that would have given him a beautiful spotty nose if he'd had any color.

He was pleased to see them all in full wolf form. It meant they were happy, safe. Their more powerful half-transformations were reserved for when they were threatened or sick, as they had been when he had first been brought to the Den. "Brought" being a loose term, he thought mildly, as the Alpha's mate had dragged him screaming and terrified through the woods by the scruff of his jacket. That had been a night of enlightenment for him. It could have gone the other way so easily.

"Good evening," he greeted them when more than half had turned their attention to him. The words instantly drew the attention of four of the five pups who all cavorted toward him with glee. He crouched, then allowed himself to be bowled over by their enthusiasm, one hand shooting out to steady his fall. "It's good to see you too!"

Laura scrabbled up his chest, licking his chin before he could stop her, and he laughed as the rest of the Pack pressed in close as well. He was again astounded by just how much _larger_ they were than the dogs he worked with, or even the real wolves he had helped treat during his graduate studies. Of course the wolves they had darted and weighed and tagged had been large, had had intelligence behind their eyes, but these before him were different creatures. The blue and gold and black eyes that surrounded him now were other worldly, ancient, humanly intelligent.

These were _werewolves, _he reminded himself, and they wore the shape of humans for the rest of the month. He had always thought that, should they exist, werewolves would be humans that wore the shape of wolves.

He knew better now.

He greeted all of them with respect in turn, knew all of the family as he ran his fingers down backs, scratched behind ears as the betas practically snuggled him. He should have been afraid, as any one of them could have ripped out his throat, torn him limb from limb, gutted him with the clawed paws that clacked against the hardwood floor. They wouldn't have even had to particularly care or try.

Instead, a sense of peace was all that crept over him, surrounded by the overly-warm, soft bodies of the Pack. They would never hurt him, these beautiful, deadly creatures. This he knew as surely as he could know anything, because despite that he was not a wolf, they had called him pack-mate. They called him brother.

He was glad they had chosen him, had placed their trust in him by telling him their secret.

A quiet "ruff" caused the group to part reluctantly, and the Alpha's mate approached, an ebon ball of fur clamped in her teeth. As she placed it into his lap, it infolded into a tiny, velvet, squirming pile of newborn puppy. It squeaked and turned its head to look up sideways at him and he smiled. His dark eyes met the mother's. "He's the new addition?" he asked reverently. She dipped her head in a nod. "Derek, right?" he asked, laying a gentle hand over the pup's head and smoothing it back over his ears. "He's beautiful."

She leaned forward, licked the human's cheek, and he could practically hear her warm voice saying "Take care of them, Deaton." She would have said it the same way as the first time she had drawn him into the Pack's den, bared their world to him in a moment of need.

"I'll take care of them, Mama," Deaton said affectionately, giving her a reassuring smile, cupping her silvery cheek in one hand for a brief second. "I will always take care of your children."

The Alpha ghosted up to her side, looked Deaton over with scrutiny. While his mate trusted this boy, this _human_, to care for the young of the werewolf pack, he was still uncertain. He had trouble placing trust in someone outside of the pack, outside of the species, someone foreign to their world. So far the young veterinarian had proved useful, watching the pups on full moon nights for the past six months so that the pack could roam unimpeded, allow their wolves free rein.

It was... proving useful.

Perhaps that was a good enough starting point when it came to humans.

Deaton ducked his head submissively to the Alpha, turned his eyes to the floor like any of the betas would if the question of authority arose. He had learned a lot in the few months he had been exposed to them; to submit to their Alpha has been his first. His shoulder would forever bear the scar of that encounter, a reminder of the lesson.

The Alpha, mollified a the gesture, bent down to lave a long, pink tongue over Derek's head. His face was assaulted by his daughter a second later, and despite that she had grown considerably larger than Derek, her father picked her up whole in his jaws and deposited her outside of Deaton's lap. He huffed at her and she yapped back, licked his nose before he lifted his head out of reach. His mate snorted at him, rose to her feet.

The rest of the Pack was at attention in an instant, the last rays of sunshine that poured through the window bathing their pelts in halos of light. Deaton sat, transfixed, as he watched them rub shoulders, the rumble of the hunt bouncing between them as they waited for their alphas to make the first move. This would be the first hunt for the two adolescent wolves, and Deaton could see how excited they were, trying their best to stand still amidst the excitement.

Then the Alpha was tossing back his head, and his howl ripped through the house, was joined by his mate's higher voice, and the rest of the pack, and the small, keening howls of all the pups save the one half asleep in Deaton's lap. All of the hair on his body stood on end at the noise, flesh prickling into goose-bumps, heart thundering in his chest as his blood raced.

And they were gone, like shadows into the night.

Deaton closed his eyes with a smile, stroked a hand down the soft fur of the pup in his lap. "Well, Derek," he said, and the puppy opened sleepy blue eyes to look up at him. The other four crowded around him as well, tails wagging their whole hind ends. "Looks like it's just us puppies now."

Derek closed his eyes, gave a big puppy yawn, and turned his attention to gnawing on Deaton's thumb.


	3. Theme 31: Flowers

Author: Sparkle Itamashii

Title: Rainbows, Sunshine, and Werepups

* * *

**Theme 31: Flowers**

The sound of clanking ceramic bowls broke through his concentration, slowing the scratch of his crayon against the paper. He tilted his head, listened to his mother downstairs as she pulled containers from the pantry, utensils from drawers, the box of index cards from the depths of the cabinet over the fridge. If he closed his eyes, he could hear the shuffle of her fingers through the cards, the hiss as she drew one out from amongst the others. He lay down the crayon, shoved the papers away from him and wiggled down from the tall chair.

He found his mother in the kitchen, waiting expectantly for him. She smiled with her hands splayed atop the island countertop. "Derek," she greeted.

"What are you doing?" he asked from the doorway, not having permission to enter her kitchen while she was doing something.

"I'm going to bake cookies for Laura's bake sale tomorrow," she told him, motioning with one hand to the flour and sugar and eggs.

"Can I... can I help?" he asked, fidgeting as if desperately wanting to get across the line into the kitchen.

She looked overly thoughtful, keeping an eye on him to see him worry, and then shrugged. "I suppose I could use someone to stir the bowl! Go grab one of the dining room chairs, puppy."

Elated, Derek scurried from the room, attacking the nearest ancient wooden chair where it rested beside their long, mahogany dining table. The chairs were all excessively heavy, or would have been if he were human. As it was, he managed to half-scoot, half-drag one of the large chairs into the kitchen and turn it so that he could stand upon it and see over the countertop.

Not having waited, his mother was already measuring the sugar to pour over the top of the mound of flour already in the bowl. He watched, fascinated, as the coarser grain cascaded over the finer, could hear the grains shifting together like music. He sniffed, loving the scent of the raw sugar his mother most often used for baking. Before she could reach for them, he grabbed up the eggs and held one out for her.

"Don't crack it," he ordered imperiously, trying to sound like his father. "You have to use your claw!"

Laughing, she held the egg in one hand and extended the index finger of her other. Fascinated, Derek watched as her werewolf claw curved out, much more delicate than his own would ever be. She set it against the surface of the egg and scrawled the letter "D" across it. "D for Derek," she told him, and plucked the carved letter from the surface to hand to him. He clasped it gently, face lit in a smile as he watched her dump the contents of the egg into the bowl.

She swiftly cracked the rest of the eggs and then handed him a wooden spoon as long as his forearm. "Mix it now?" he asked, pale eyes glittering with expectation.

"Yep!" she agreed. "Mix it 'til there are no more dry bits and no more lumps. And don't spill any!"

He plunged the spoon into the mix and a puff of flour rose into his face, causing him to wrinkle his nose and sneeze. Realizing this might count as "spilling," he looked to her, but she was already measuring butter and extracts. Satisfied he was not in trouble, Derek began to stir slowly, making sure that none of the powder billowed up again, smashing down the lumps as he found them. His mother added ingredients as he stirred, until finally she was just sitting across from him, watching.

When he deemed the task finished, he stopped, the soreness in his arm healing almost instantly when his motion ceased. He looked up happily and found his mother staring fondly at him, a small smile playing over her lips. He beamed, and relinquished the spoon to her for judgment. She gave it an experimental swirl in the firm batter, but Derek had done the job well.

"Do you want to cut shapes?" she asked him, laughed when he perked. "Ok, fetch the rolling pin from that cabinet, and I'll grab the cookie cutters!"

Derek slithered down the chair, searching with one tippy-toe for the ground instead of jumping. He grabbed the worn, wooden rolling pin, with its red handles and smooth coating of flour stains, and set it on the chair. Clambering back up, he picked up the rolling pin and placed it on the counter. His mother was laying out a variety of cutters in different shapes, some metal, some plastic. The lump of cookie dough sat idly between them. She flourished up two designs and presented them to him for choosing.

"That one," he said, pointing to the one shaped like a daisy head. Then he looked at the other one, and the three others. "They're all _flowers_," he informed her with distaste.

"Of course they are," his mother said, pressing the daisy into his palm and setting aside the tulip. "It's a spring bake sale."

He frowned as he watched her rolling out the dough into a large, thin patty. "It's... _girly_." He had the good grace to look abashed when she raised an eyebrow at him. "I don't want to make _girly_ cookies."

His mother laughed, a sound that widened his eyes with pleasure. He loved hearing her laugh, was glad she was so generous with her happiness. A lot of the kids at school were not so lucky.

"What about making cookies _for_ _girls_, puppy?" she asked, using his pet name with affection. "Girls like flowers, you know."

Derek wrinkled his nose, but then shrugged. "I guess. Since they are for _Laura_," he clarified.

They set about cutting shapes without further discussion, his mother's flowers much neater than his as she pulled them expertly from the rest of the dough and set them aside. Without comment she accepted his slightly stretched versions, molded them quickly into proper shape and set them amongst her own until there was only one small lump of dough, not quite big enough to make a good flower. This she took, rolled into a ball, mashed down and shaped into a heart.

"This one can be for you," she told Derek gently, setting it down in front of him. "It's a heart," Derek observed, making a small heart outline with his hands in the air. He looked up, and she reached over to scrub a bit of dough from his nose. "We can share it."

"Deal," she told him. "Now scoot. Wash up and I'll come get you when they're done."

For a moment, Derek stood upon the chair and surveyed their work. The two dozen flowers, in neat stacks of four, the flour all over the countertops, all over his skin. His mother smiling patiently, watching him. He nodded and then slithered down from the chair, dragging it back to where it belonged in the dining room. He fetched a paper towel, wet it and wiped the flour from the dark chair before his father could find it. Then he retreated back upstairs, to the desk and the papers and the crayons.

He spent the rest of the night drawing flowers for his mother.


	4. Theme 43: Dying

Author: Sparkle Itamashii

Title: Rainbows, Sunshine, and Werepups

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**Theme 43: Dying**

She turned around to face them, fixed each with a serious mom stare. "Ok, you two. What are the rules?"

"No biting," Derek declared, almost a pledge.

"No shifting," Laura said, tone echoing the lecture they'd heard a gazillion times.

"No talking to humans!" Derek said quickly, smile growing.

"And if we get mad, we're done!" they chimed together, then shot one another sly sideways glances.

Their mother knew better, gave them both a raised eyebrow that said she hadn't fallen off the turnip truck yesterday. "And?" she prompted.

Laura rolled her eyes and Derek blushed at being caught. "And no *pranks*," Laura amended with a sigh.

Beside her, Derek struggled to control a grin, and their mother rolled her green eyes. "I mean it you two. If the humans find out what you are, they'll hurt you. Maybe kill you. I know this is fun for you, but remember it is also a lesson. You should be watching how the humans act around one another. I'm going to ask you questions when we get home."

"We _know_ mo~m," Derek said, drawing out the name. "You tell us _every_ _time_."

"I mean it every time young man," she chided, but she could see that they understood. "All right, collars on then."

Perking up, Derek shoved a sharp blue collar toward his sister and she plucked it gracefully from his fingers. He leaned forward, baring his neck for her to clip it on him. The weight was familiar, if not welcome, and the silver tag jingled as he straightened.

Laura offered him her blood red collar, and he took it almost solemnly. She was to be the alpha of their pack someday, and bowing her head to anyone, even her little brother, was something she did not often do. Here though she leaned forward, held up her long, dark tresses to allow him to fasten the collar around her neck. The tag rested in the hollow at the base of her throat. Derek liked the flowing script on hers better than he liked the block lettering of his own name.

"Check your blind spots," their mother said when they were both collared.

They turned each to their own window, scanning the humans milling about the park. No one wandered the parking lot around them, no strays nearby from the playground. Most of the parents were focused on their children as they played. "It's clear," Laura reported.

Their mother nodded, and the two took it as permission to duck down and begin to shift. They were the children of alpha wolves who had not reached puberty, and so their forms were not the powerful shifts of the adults. Laura's skin began to darken first, to split and rise into blackened fur. Her face lengthened, jaws jutting, teeth elongating and sharpening. Last to change were her dark eyes, becoming the burnt reddish-orange of her status as young alpha. When she was finished, she stood before him as a wolf pup, so dark brown as to appear black.

Derek, on the other hand, WAS as black as coal except for the white line on his chest and the bright blue of his eyes. He gazed happily at his sister, tongue lolling and long, bushy tail wagging. Their mother reached back to them, rubbed a thumb over the tags at their throats to activate the charm within them. The tags glowed for a moment, then returned to a sedate silvery color. She would be able to tell if they were close to shifting, get them away from the humans.

"Stay close to me, until you've been seen, and then you can play. Don't want to scare anyone," she told them as a final warning. She didn't like the risks that came with these sorts of tests, but she knew why her mate insisted on them. She would not be able to protect them forever- they would have to learn to survive amongst humans.

Laura rolled her little pup eyes, pawing at the car door with impatience. Derek's tail wagged again as he focused on the door handle. Their mom sighed and got out, opened the door for them.

As the myriad scents rolled over them, Derek took a deep breath and closed his eyes. There were a million scents, from the people inhabiting the park to the food they had eaten to the drinks they carried. From the small animals in the trees, on the ground, in the air, to the dozens of different plants that were nothing like the ones in the woods near his home. He could smell chemicals and mechanical things, the buildings at the edges of the park... everything, and it was all wondrous and rich to him.

Laura nudged his shoulder with her nose, nodded toward where their mother was already moving away from them. He scrabbled down after her, his paws just a little too big to save him from being awkward. Beside him, Laura's eyes were alight with mischief and he could practically see the words _race you_ written in the lines of her pose. For a moment he thought about putting his head up and strutting purposefully away, but then she was running and he was galloping after her toward their mother.

Derek relished in the feel of his wolf body. The strength of the muscles as he bounded up to their mother's side. The keen sense of smell alerting him to even the small smells, like the scents of _home_ radiating from new arrivals to the park. It was glorious, so much better than being a human... aside from the lack of thumbs, anyway, and that would come when he was older, when he had more power.

As the trio approached the playground, Derek and Laura each took a side, trotting obediently at their mother's heels. Derek's eyes were drawn to the children at play, climbing all over the colorful equipment. The chatter of their games was almost overwhelming, and Derek pressed a little closer to his mother. She smiled, nudged him away with the toe of her shoe.

"Go on," she said softly enough that they were the only ones with keen enough hearing to catch it.

Laura gave Derek a once over, and then disappeared into the throng of kids. He watched her weaving amongst them, her straight tail purposefully curled up over her back to make her look more like a dog and less like a wolf pup. She was all puppy smiles, tongue lolling, licking the cheeks of any child brave enough to get close to her. The parents on the sidelines didn't seem to mind the puppies; perhaps if they were bigger, or looked meaner, but they were soft and small and were keeping the kids occupied which meant they were not screaming.

Much more hesitant, Derek hung back, looking up to watch the kids clambering up the ladders to get to the slide. He could hear the fabric of their clothes scuffing along the surface until they popped out the bottom, squealing and gigging to go back for more. There was a rope bridge above that only some of the kids were brave enough to cross, despite the ropes along the sides which prevented anyone from falling. His eyes traced the cubes with bowed out glass, the climbing pole, the platform with a steering wheel to nowhere attached to one wall.

The sandbox where a lone child sat, covered by one of the windowed cubes, a small stick in his hand that he was using to draw patterns in the damp, dark sand. His knees were pulled to his chin and his attention was entirely focused on his work, ignoring the rest of the world.

An oasis of calm in the storm.

Derek resolutely curled his tail over his back like his sister had done, and began trotting through the crowd to reach the child. The boy couldn't have been over five and Derek couldn't get a scent of him amongst all the rest until he poked his head through the square bars of the structure. The boy didn't even look up, didn't seem to notice the wolf peering in at him. Miffed, Derek let out a small _ruff_ in the boy's direction.

Big brown eyes turned toward him, and Derek found himself trapped underneath the intense stare. It was unnerving, and he looked down first, wriggling through the opening until he had joined the boy in the sandbox. As Derek padded over the child seemed unconcerned that he'd been joined by a wolf. Instead, he held out a hand for Derek to sniff.

Derek obliged, snuffling his nose into the child's proffered palm with interest. he smelled of bacon and eggs and toast, like strawberry jam and butter. He smelled like he had come from Sunday brunch. The scent of _love_ clung to every part of him and Derek found himself wagging his tail.

"Good puppy," the child declared, mashing a sandy hand on top of Derek's head between his ears. The hand smoothed back over his neck, followed the line of his collar without grasping on, until he could palm the tag. "Dee... eee... arrr... Deeeerrrr." Derek _ruffed_ again, and the boy's gaze briefly met his own before returning to the task. For a moment he puzzled over the word and then- "Derek." He looked up and Derek wagged his tail once. "That's not a dog's name."

Derek wiggled and licked the boy's cheek in agreement.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, pushing Derek off of him and grabbing his face with both small hands. "No licking!" he admonished, and it took a lot of control for Derek not to tear his snout from this human's controlling hands and bite him. The boy released him not a moment too soon, and Derek forgave him instantly when his fingers found a soft spot at the base of Derek's ear. "Good puppy."

The sound of Laura's bark perked Derek's ear and he turned to look. She was at the edge of a group of children who had figured out if they threw a stick she would fetch it back to them. He and the boy watched several exchanges before Derek once more found his head being petted.

"You should play too," said the boy. Derek planted his butt beside the kid, and looked up at him expectantly. The child pursed his lips and then shrugged. "Ok."

And then he was wiggling through the bars and Derek was on his heels, following him up the steps toward the rope bridge that lead across to the slide. As they climbed the boy's smile grew, happiness radiating from him until it affected Derek as well, until he was nudging at the boy's legs and they were at the precipice of the slide.

In the middle of trying to decide how to go down the slide, his front paws slipping around on the lip of the smooth plastic, the boy grabbed him around the middle, tucked him into his chest, and practically leaped into the tube. Derek yelped, a sound which dropped sharply at the end as they went spiraling toward the ground. The child's squeal of delight echoed around them until they were spit out at the bottom in a tumble of human, werewolf, dirt and wood shavings.

For a moment Derek didn't know what to do with himself. The child was sitting beside him giggling, and he could hear someone at the top of the slide getting ready to make the same leap. That one was larger than his boy, and would inevitably land atop both of them if he didn't move. Making a quick decision, Derek scrambled to his feet, wheeled around to behind the boy, and grabbed the collar of his shirt. It was an easy task to haul him out of the way. A second later another child tumbled from the slide, landing exactly where his boy had been.

"Stiles!" called a voice to their right. Derek spit out the boy's shirt and turned to see the woman who stood at the edge of the playground staring hard at Derek's boy.

"Oops," said the boy - Stiles, Derek corrected - in a hushed, guilty tone. "That's my mom."

She gave him a look that mirrored Stiles' earlier one; lips pursed, eyes unwavering as she made a decision. Derek leaned his shoulder against Stiles' arm. He knew that look. The fun was over. Sure enough, she motioned with a single point that Stiles was to get over here right now young man. The scent of guilt, the blood of the boy blushing, rose around them.

Stiles clambered to his feet, brushed off his knees and his butt, and patted Derek on the head. "Come on, puppy," he said softly. Derek's tail wagged of its own accord.

The two wove their way through the throng of kids and Derek could smell Laura as she broke away from the group she'd been entertaining. Of course she would keep an eye on him, whatever she was doing; he was Pack, and she would lead him someday. He ducked his head guiltily, having forgotten momentarily about her, about his test.

As they reached her, the woman knelt, held out her hand to Derek. He could see the softness in her eyes, knew that she was only protecting her cub. He accepted the truce with grace, bounding the last step between them until he could put his nose into her palm as he had done to Stiles. It was only with great control that he did not recoil at the spark of pain the touch sent across his nose. He looked up, met her doe-brown eyes. She was beautiful, but she was hurt somehow.

"You made a friend," she observed to Stiles, not taking her eyes from Derek.

"Can we take him home?" Stiles asked innocently. "Pleeeeease?"

She smiled and finally her attention shifted to her son. "Sorry, love. He has a collar already see? Someone already loves him."

"But he wants to come home with us, I think," Stiles said sagely.

Ruffling his hair with one slender hand, she chuckled. "Oh you think that, do you?" she asked, and then turned him by the head to see Laura as she approached. "I think you might have to convince his girlfriend!"

Laura paused, staring at the boy's mother, her nose raised in the air slightly. Curious, Derek lifted his own nose, took a deep breath to catch the woman's scent. Brunch and love, the same as the boy, with a warm perfume and... and something else. Something Derek didn't recognize. Something he didn't like. His eyes dropped back to Laura as she padded forward, stopping beside him and nuzzling his shoulder.

Stiles' shoulders dropped in disappointment. "Oh," he said, and he sounded so sad that Derek had to control the urge to press into him for reassurance. He couldn't go home with the child.

"Come on, buddy," his mom said, and she made it sound like an apology somehow. "Say goodbye, it's time to get home."

Taking in a deep breath, Stiles sighed heavily and then practically collapsed around Derek as only a small dramatic child can. Derek stiffened slightly as the child's arms wrapped around his neck in a hug. It wasn't a threat, though, and Derek managed to relax enough to press his cheek into the side of Stiles' throat. When the boy withdrew, he patted Derek on the head one more time. "Goodbye, puppy. Be _good_," he advised.

Derek's tail wagged one last time as Stiles' mother took her son's hand in hers.

That _scent_...

He looked to Laura, silently asking her what it was, what could possibly smell that wrong about what seemed like such a nice human. His sister's ruddy eyes were sad, her ears drawn back just slightly. She mimed laying down weakly, laying her head upon the ground as if... as if...

As if dying.

Derek's eyes snapped back to the child and his mother as they walked away from the wolves. Stiles was bouncing around in his mother's grasp, chattering about the puppy he met and how he was going to get one of his very own, about how he was going to tell 'Scott' all about his puppy. How his dad was going to love a puppy just like Derek. His mother just murmured soft agreements and lead him toward the car, toward home, and all Derek could smell was that scent, that scent that said she was _dying_.

He knew that humans got sick. He knew that sometimes they got colds and sometimes they smelled funny, and that it hurt them. He knew their bodies didn't heal them like his did. He had smelled sickness before, knew half the kids at the playground had snotty noses or a mild cough. He had smelled sickness on his mother when she visited a human friend of hers. But this... this was different. Worse. Final.

He whined, low in his throat, as he watched Stiles walk away, holding the hand of his mother, her love for him so strong that he had reeked of it in the sandbox... and Derek's chest hurt at how unfair humans had it. How deeply they loved and how easily they lost.

_He's going to have it so rough,_ Derek thought sadly, ears perked to listen to the child's voice after he had disappeared from sight. He just couldn't imagine losing his own mother... not so young, at least.

Beside him, Laura contained a sigh, watching her brother as he stared intently after the humans. She knew that look. She glanced out toward the parking lot, where the duo had disappeared, and wondered if the child had any more idea what had happened than Derek.

_Probably not_ she thought, and nudged his shoulder hard to get his attention. It was time for them to be going as well. They could sort out his bonding-with-humans issues later, she decided. Their mother didn't need to know.

Besides... what were the odds they would see that boy again anyway?


	5. Theme 62: Magic

Author: Sparkle Itamashii

Title: Rainbows, Sunshine, and Werepups

* * *

**Theme 62: Magic**

He shuffled nervously outside the door to the house, adjusting his shirt and running a hand over his close-cropped hair. A part of him knew that he shouldn't be nervous, that the deadly, supernatural creatures behind the door would not harm him in any way. Not now, not after so many visits on the full moon, not after they had trusted him with their secret, guarded their children, helped them when they were hurting. But a part of him was instinctually terrified of the sanguine predators he knew that they could be.

_They don't hunt humans_, he reminded himself.

_You're not, entirely..._ himself reminded him back.

Sighing, he raised his hand to knock and the door swung open to the smiling face of the Alpha's mate. He knew that they could hear him, had probably heard him driving up from a mile away (literally) and that waiting for him to knock was, if he was honest, a courtesy they gave to make him more comfortable. He caught his breath, smiled warmly in return.

"Good evening Mrs. Hale," he greeted.

She stepped aside, offering him entrance into their den. His fingers clasped at the edge of his long sleeves and he stepped across the threshold. Squeals sounded from the second story of the house and the pattering of feet began to thump around as he glanced upward. She turned her gaze up as well, and smiled. "Incoming," she told him.

A moment later, three small children appeared at the top of the staircase, faces alight with excitement. "Alan!" they shrieked in unison and practically threw themselves down the stairs. The two young boys fell over their own feet as they tumbled down, transforming into a pair of pups, one black, one silver. The girl, a little older, managed to stay human as she flung her arms around his waist.

"Hello kids- puppies," he corrected, looking to their mother as he knelt to pet the two wolf pups wiggling about his feet. She smiled like it didn't matter if he called them children or puppies.

She swung the door shut behind him, and began to move to the kitchen. "We're going to be gone until tomorrow evening," she told him over her shoulder. He rose to follow her, threw a glance down the hall to where her mate was adjusting a tie around his neck in a mirror and scowling at it as if he'd really rather kill it than wear it. "Help yourself to anything in the fridge, dear, and the pups can have their usual."

Their usual being anything Alan could make them that wasn't cookies or raw meat, despite what they had in the past tried to convince him of. He winced, remembering how much trouble he'd been in for letting the kids teach him anything about werewolves; they were children, and just as prone to lying for fun as any human child. While they'd thought it was hilarious to cajole him into cookies for dinner ("werewolves burn more energy, so we need more sugar!") and that their bedtime was sunrise ("we run around the woods all night!"), their father had come very close to throwing Alan out permanently.

A sheet of paper was pressed into his hands, drawing his attention back to the present. He glanced down at the list of do's and don'ts and nodded.

"Peter didn't want to leave you with his pups on top of ours, so the twins are staying with a friend," she told him as she picked up a purse. "If you need anything, the number where they are staying is on there. You can't reach us, but she'll be able to help you."

"We'll be fine," Alan told her sincerely.

She smiled, staring hard at him for a moment before she placed her hand along the back of his neck, tilted her head in to touch his forehead with her own. He closed his eyes, accepting the gesture with grace, touched her nose with his own as he'd been taught. It was a Pack gesture, one he had seen many of them perform to reassure, affirm that all was well.

Behind him, the Alpha cleared his throat. Alan turned and tried his best not to notice that the guy still hadn't managed to straighten his tie completely. Brushing past, Elyse reached up and straightened it for him, gave him a kiss on the cheek that did not manage to distract him from staring at the young man standing in their kitchen.

"Come on, sweetie, we're going to be late for the flight," she called, moving for the front door.

The Alpha scowled. "Take care of them, Deaton," he growled, honest to god growled, and Alan found he couldn't help the way a large part of him cowered inside at the tone. He ducked his head, cast his eyes down.

"Of course, Jeremy. I won't let them come to any harm."

Snorting, the Alpha turned, joined his wife at the door, put up with the way she smacked his arm and murmured to be nice. She cast Alan a smile around her mate, and then lead him out the door. It clicked shut and a moment later the rev of an engine filled the air. Alan crossed the space between the kitchen and the front door, laid a hand on Laura's head where she peeked through the window to the side of the door.

"Can we watch a movie?" she asked when the car was out of sight.

He smiled. "You can even pick it," he told her. "But," he added, checking his watch, "you have to eat dinner first."

So it was that he cooked the three children a small meal, with elbow macaroni and meat sauce and garlic bread he let Laura help him butter and toast. Derek and Case, his older brother, frolicked on the slippery kitchen floor, getting under their feet until the meal was made, the table was set, and servings had been put on plates. Alan managed to scruff each of them in turn, and talk them through transforming back into humans so that they could eat their dinner with forks instead of faces.

After dinner he ushered all of them upstairs for a bath, something that he knew human children hated but sorely needed. He was glad the werewolves were more appreciative of water, but he could have done without the tidal waves of glee. He did give some sort of attempt at getting the boys into pajamas, but halfway through the chase they had turned into pups again and Laura told him he may as well leave them.

She selected a movie from the shelves, a cartoon that Alan had not seen before. He set up a baby gate at the exit of the family room, made sure that Laura was seated comfortably on the couch (and hoped she would fall asleep), and then sat himself on the floor where he was accessible to the pups.

Almost immediately he was joined by the silver and black duo. Derek flopped into his lap, a rope toy in his little werewolf jaws. He wriggled around until he was laying on his back, paws tucked up under his chin, rope snaking over his fluffy belly, and _whined_.

"Not fair," Alan chided, tickling Derek's belly and causing him to squeak and drop the toy. Deaton snatched it up, dangled it above Derek just out of reach.

Onto the shenanigan, Derek lunged upward to grab the rope, missed as Deaton pulled it upward with a laugh. The human lowered it once more, to just within his reach, and Derek eyed him for a moment. He yipped, and his brother trotted over, giving the two of them a curious look. The second Alan's eyes moved from Derek to Case, Derek grabbed the rope toy, rolled off his lap, and began to tug.

"Tricky puppy!" Alan accused, tugging back and baring his teeth a little; with a smile, of course, because he knew these were the children of alphas. Even as many years their elder as he was, they were above him on the Pack's sense of order.

In response, Derek pulled his lips back, not releasing the toy, and his dark blue eyes lightened, lit up starkly.

Alan laughed, because it was adorable, and Laura shot him a look from the couch. One corner of her mouth twitched in amusement, but she turned her attention back to the movie, obviously deciding they were less interesting. He let go of the rope, surrendering it to Derek, who proceeded to try to maul it like a fresh kill.

The evening passed, for the most part, in such uneventful ways. Derek and his brother wrestled together on the floor, playing tug of war and sometimes including Alan. Laura watched the rest of her movie, though she was barely awake by the time the credits began to scroll. He gathered the two sleeping puppies and took them upstairs, trailing a yawning Laura at his heel. She put herself to bed and the boys were easy to talk back to human forms and tuck into bed.

As he was leaving, Derek's little brother let out the tiniest little whimper and he paused to look behind him. The brothers were sitting up in their beds, staring at him expectantly, hopefully. He sighed fondly, knowing what they were silently asking for, and dug around in his pocket for the small, clear vial. Inside was a teaspoon's worth of violet dust, which he poured into the palm of his hand. He had shown this to them the last time he watched them for the evening, and they clearly hadn't forgotten.

"Close your eyes," he told them, and both boys squeezed their eyes shut tightly. "Now, imagine that you are in the forest with your parents. Can you see them running?"

When they both nodded, Alan closed his own eyes. He imagined that he was with them, was perhaps one of them, running with long strides through the forest in the night, the moon bathing his path in pale white light. When he could see it clearly in his mind's eye, he raised his hand and opened it palm-up in front of his lips, blew gently upon the dust.

As it swirled into the air it lit up, took form. The children noticed immediately and opened their eyes to watch as the dust became a pair of wolves with thick coats and glowing eyes. They ran side by side, joyfully, running because they _could_ rather than because they _had to_. The images romped and played for a few heartbeats, tipping their heads back to howl silently toward the ceiling before fading from view, the dust vanishing before it hit the floor.

The boys burst into applause and giggles and at a look from Alan, snuggled themselves under their blankets. The whispering would begin only when the human left the room.

Alan smiled, closing the door behind. It was the only magic trick he knew so far, but it was one he was very proud to have learned. In time, he knew he would discover something more, something useful, as his research continued. He wanted to be able to help these creatures, who had put their trust in him out of such necessity. If there was anything he could do to help them, even if it was just watching their children, making sure they were happy and safe, he would do it.

He would _always_ help.


End file.
